The Model Muse
by Doodled93
Summary: Light's fresh from Uni & aiming to be a pro writer. Due to writers block & a need of cash he agrees to model for an art class. L's a famous artist experiencin his own artists block & goes back to school for a change. L finds a muse & Lights not too happy
1. Chapter 1 Lack of Inspiration

Hey, this is just an idea that popped into my head while i was reading other fanfics and trying to get idea's for my other story, Violet Eyes, soooo... yeah. Minor writers block, so I decided to write about light as a writer instead... Please, ppl who are waiting for another chapter, realise that I'm working on it, but it's just going and going and droning and there was exams and then there was stupid MATH first period and AAGH! So I'm taking a small break from writing my Naruto fic. I feel guilty, but that story isn't talking to me right now, so I'm going to get it jealous with this one... It's a fool-proof plan :3

okay, first time Death Note writer ppl, so I wanna hear if Light is OOC or if it's a total crap chapter. I need to hear all of this, cause i'm in Writers Craft in school and I wanna work on my writing a lot, so please, please, please tell me where I need more descriptions, where I should maybe put more focus, and whether or not I should make this into a full-fledged story, rather than the borderline test-fic that i think it is so far.

I'm planning on making this Yaoi, and if I get into any steamy scenes, it'll all be in bold, so just skip over it and see the note at the bottom to get a description if anything important, other than steamy stuff, happens. I'm probably not going to have Matt or Mello or Near in this, cause i can't really get into their characters too much... well, also, L's better than all three of them, and i don't know how to add them in soooo :D

Chapter 1

"You could always come back home dear… you know we worry about you, staying in that apartment alone…"

Light sighed, running his hand through his caramel coloured locks, mussing his immaculate hair. This discussion again… this wasn't the first time he'd gone over this with his mother in the three months that he'd moved out of his parents' house. The plan had been to stay at home while he went to school, not adding housing funds to the one's already acquired from his education, then move out to an apartment or flat once either his debt or his education, was finished with, possibly both.

The student loans were easy to pay off, easier than Light had originally anticipated, and a combination of scholarships and 'bonuses' from the force from helping his dad with cases got everything paid off before he'd graduated, only a few months prior. So Light had decided to stay at home for the remainder of his post-secondary education… no point giving up free food and board, and it gave him an excuse to turn down the numerous… propositions that he'd gotten from the female (and a good portion of the male) population of his school. No, no, I'm _terribly_ sorry, but I can't do that, my parent's room is just down the hall from my own room…

Light surveyed his apartment from his bed, at least what he could see of it anyway. His room was approximately the same size and shape as his room at home, with his bed pushed to the opposite corner that the door was at, his desk with his computer set up on it on the same wall as his headboard. The majority of one wall was taken up by a filled book-shelf, a decent sized closet taking up the rest of the wall. Directly opposite to the door, perched between his desk and his bed, was a window that looked out from the third floor of the apartment, overlooking a street and giving a glimpse to the park on the opposite side of the street through leafy boughs from the trees that lines the street. On the final wall, the one that housed the door that led to the rest of his apartment, held only a shelving unit and some drawer space for the few clothes that he owned that didn't need to be hung, his old tennis trophies as well as pictures from home sitting on the left-over space.

Light had been, he was willing to admit it, lucky to get the apartment. He had had a budget war with two other people who wanted the apartment, and though his savings from over the years were impressive, it was a couple more of those 'bonuses', one from helping catch a serial killer and one from catching a thief, that had won him the apartment. And oh what a wonderful apartment it was… if only its rent wasn't so high. And that was what brought Light back to his conversation with his mother.

His parents were easily worried over him, so he had complied to regularly checking in with them, telling about the goings on and such, and his mother and father always made a point to make it clear that they always had a place for him, if he ever decided to move back home.

His mother was in the middle of one of those points, and Light could tell that it would be best just to let her get it out already, or else she'd just repeat it again.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, he cursed to himself, wondering why, _why_ he just had to mention that he was a little short on cash. Sure, the rent was eating away at his savings, and the checks that he got from the Police force from the occasional case that he'd decided to help with kept him from starving, but without a solid job the rent was burning a hole in his wallet.

Well, it wasn't as if Light hadn't gotten any job offers, no, that wasn't the case at all. Months before he'd even graduated, Light had been getting job offers at various firms and companies… but he didn't want to do any of those things. Sure, he was interested at least a little in being a lawyer, detective, and being in the police force like his dad was, and he certainly had the mind for it, but… well, it wasn't writing.

Not having a definite major while going to University, Light went through various English, Math, and Science courses. He even took a couple of courses online, and through all of that, had taken enough of each course (all of them advanced of course) and gotten a high enough mark (100% was alright…) that Light could have gone after a degree as a Lawyer, gotten a license as a detective, even started his own firm. As it is, Light's still getting mail from companies to come and work for them.

But no, while all that other stuff was interesting, Light liked WRITING, and, regardless of how his father thought that it was a waste of time for him to do that rather than save lives (which he still did), he wanted to be a writer.

It was fascinating how authors got across their feelings, making whole new worlds, governments and characters, a whole new set of rules in a new world, it was enthralling… they could get their views across to millions of people across the world without having to leave your hometown, you could make readers feel what you wanted them to, you could, in some cases, have them love or hate your characters. It was all too tempting a life, and though Light did have the skill to make a difference to the people in the real world, catching criminals and keeping innocents from going to jail, there was always the thought that if only those criminals had been influenced to grow up differently, or if they had _this_ set of morals taught to them rather than letting them grow up to do _that_… well, if Light could write something to help people get their morals set and get their rights and wrongs sorted out, then even after Light grew old and died, his books would be around to set people right.

If he was a police officer or a detective or a lawyer, the criminals would still be criminals, and there would still be even more criminals, and who would have his level of intellect to deal with them after he died?

Sure, maybe there would be another person out there eventually… but what Lights dad didn't seem to understand is that he's fine with helping out the police force AND write…

But the pay still wasn't enough.

And if that wasn't bad enough, Light was experiencing the worst thing in the writers' world. Something so horrifying that it's made hardened veterans of the novelist breed cry.

Writers block.

Lights tried every method to get the idea's that he's sure are in his head to flow from his fingers, from continuous writing to reading various novel genres…

The idea to the continuous writing is to set a timer for a few minutes, and just start writing. Write anything that's on your mind; write about your day, what you think about writing for those few minutes, anything at all. Well, Light had tried writing continuously from anywhere between 4 minutes to 4 hours, and all that did was give him a cramped up wrist and sore fingers.

Reading various genre's helps open your mind, letting your mind sort through idea's and possibly give you inspiration through something the author wrote. Light had re-read every book in his apartment, every book in his parent's house, and had spent three days going through the local library's shelves, reading everything from short stories, to novellas to all types of series to books of poetry, all the way down to text-books (high school, and various college/university ones to) and picture books.

Yeah.

Picture books.

That's what he'd gotten down to.

And still, though he managed to read a couple of really good books that he otherwise wouldn't have read, as well as revisiting some of the thicker books that he hadn't read since the early grades of middle school, he still couldn't get anything from the books that really made him want to write.

Sure, there were some good ideas in there, but nothing that really caught him, nothing really substantial.

So he was stuck on the phone with his worrying mother, he had maybe two or three more months at best until he couldn't afford rent AND food, and he had an idiotic case of writers block.

Fun.

"… and you know dear, your room is still here if you ever need it."

Light sighed again, blowing the air upwards, flipping his bangs upwards.

"Mom, I'm not moving back into the house. Really, I'm fine. I'm just blowing it out of proportion… besides, I'm going to go check out a job tomorrow," an evil, horrible job that Matsuda suggested to me, "so you really don't have to worry… but it'll only be a temporary one… I'm still going to be a writer mom, I'm just going to get some… funding… of a sort."

The excited gasp from the person on the other side of the conversation turned into a sigh, and Light cringed slightly. Apparently extra courses and night school had gotten his mothers expectations a great deal higher than being a writer put him at.

"okay dear… just remember to call. You know we worry about you," yes, yes you do, "and it doesn't help that you're not using… well, it doesn't help that you're not taking advantage of your education…"

Yeah, it's obvious that she thinks that I'm wasting time on the ground when her expectations are on cloud nine… great.

After a few more words of reassurance, I hung up. Do I really have to…? Yeah.

Well, maybe a change of pace will do me good…

Picking up the phone again, I started dialing a familiar number, listening to it ring for a while before Matsuda's voice cheerily told me that hey, I've reached Matsuda and that he wasn't actually in right now and, oh! Could I just please, please, please leave a message after the beep and he'd try to get back to me as soon as possi-**BEEP**

"Matsuda, it's Light. You know that job that you were telling me about? Well, I've… changed my mind about it…"

* * *

*clink*

Sip.

A pale nose on an equally pale face scrunching up. A sugar cube is picked up delicately between two long, slender fingers and, with the utmost care, is dropped into a mug of tea with a small *plunk*. And, after a moment's thought…

*plunk* *plunk* *plunk* *plunk* *plunk*

…

*plunk* *plunk* *plunk*

Another sip, but this one producing a smile, and round dark eyes turned back to the blank canvas set up in front of him. Absentmindedly stirring the pile of sugar that had accumulated at the bottom of the mug into the rest of the liquid surrounding it, a head topped by unruly black hair tilts to the side, regarding the cloth covered frame from the new angle as if maybe there was some big difference in looking at the arrangement of threads in way. Dark eyebrows partially hidden by a splay of bangs furrow, creating a small crease between them as the difference wasn't as apparent as he'd hoped.

His eyes narrow slightly in annoyance, the dark bags under his eyes giving the look a more sleepy feel to it, before he moves his knees from their previous position, bent up to his chest in almost an upright fetal position, placing his bare feet on the carpeted floor, padding towards the door in the relative darkness of the room, stepping around and over boxes filled with various art supplies.

The figure gave a lazy glance around the large room just before he left, taking in features that he's already memorized in one fell swoop. The low shelves that went all the way around the room, filled with various books on a variety of subjects, the white walls mostly covered by bits of sketched on paper held up with thumb tacks regardless of the numerous holes that resulted.

Shelves filled with containers of paint in different mediums and stacks of slim boxes holding more drawing materials were neatly displayed in contrast to the rest of the room, one entire table set up with paint brushes of all sizes and types, pallet knives and an odd assortment of knick-knacks all lined up according to size right next to a large sink.

Moving away from the room, steps slow and deliberate, posture slouched in an obviously unhealthy way, the artist made his way through the halls of his house on his way to Heaven, alternating between looking at the ceiling, the wall, and his feet, pondering on what to do with his situation.

Reaching his destination, he pushed the door leading to Heaven open, letting it swing shut behind him as he let instinct guide him towards the fridge, the glimmer off of the kitchen counters like glazed sugar, but no, from a young age the artist had learned that the counter, no matter how glittering or shiny, tasted like an of the sugary confections that were always (ALWAYS) stocked in the left fridge, the pantry, and 4 of the six drawers that took up half of the northern wall.

The door opened and the artist looked up from behind the fridge door, allowing either side of his mouth to curl upwards in a smile at the sight of his elderly caretaker, Watari.

The old man looked a little bit startled to see the twenty-something year old, but gave a gentle smile otherwise, the lines of age on his face deepening slightly.

"L, I didn't expect you to be down here… still having problems?" the deep voice had an English accent to it, and Watari motioned for him to take a seat at the Kitchen island, Taking L's place at the fridge and pulling out a strawberry cheesecake.

The now identified L perched at one of the chairs at the counter, putting his weight on his heels as he arranged his knees against his chest, arms coming around to curl in front of his knees, picking lightly at the thread worn fabric of his faded baggy jeans.

"Yes. I believe that I am experiencing the painters' equivalent to writers block… I'm not quite sure what to do, seeing as this hasn't happened before…" L's voice was low, the tone of which made it seem like he was talking more to himself. His right hand came up and he lightly bit thumb, letting go of the flesh to let it trail across his bottom lip.

Watari set a plate with a slice of the cake on it in front of L, the lines between the crust and the filling stark lines, a sugar-glazed strawberry cushioned in a fluff of whipped cream, setting a fork beside the plate.

"what have you tried to get rid of this… artists block?"

L took a moment to gather his thoughts, picking up the fork by its end with the tips of his fingers, handling it as if he was picking up evidence in a crime scene, carefully inserting the forks prongs into the smooth substance of the cheesecake and bringing it to his mouth, curling his tongue around the fork both before and after the cake was making its way to his stomach, then repeated his beginning motions.

"Mn, I've sketched out photographs in various styles and mediums, drawn out scenes from novels that I've liked, and I've slept for a couple of hours. I honestly can't figure out what I would like to draw." L himself couldn't believe that he was having this problem. He, L, the current top artist, the artist who no one knows the identity of save for a few privileged persons, the artist who had managed to stump the most analytical art critics, had 'artists block'. Money was no issue for him, his paintings and sketches selling for a generous amount, yet he was having trouble with what to draw.

If ever there was a truly apt example of the saying "money doesn't buy everything," L's situation is it.

Watari considered this for a moment, taking the plate and fork from L once he'd finished getting every last crumb from the plate.

"I've heard that a change of pace helps writers when they are having this problem. Maybe you should do something active, allow your mind to work on something specific rather than on something vague."

L considered this for a moment.

He didn't want to move on to a subject that didn't involve some sort of drawing, but yes, maybe a change of pace would do him good… something specific…hmm…

There was Tennis, but that would be moving on to something off from art, though there was no reason why he couldn't do that along with whatever else he decided to do… a change of pace would definitely mean venturing into society, and though how his manner of dress and conduct tended to make others uncomfortable, L didn't plan on changing. So that scratched getting a job off of the short list of things to do that would be a change of pace…

It would have to be a place where there was no dress code, or at least a minimal one, like no shirt no service, and where L's habits would garner little to no attention. L knew he was a slob, at least in comparison to the rest of society, and he knew that his diet would make the average citizen cringe.

So where could he go to get a change of pace, where he could still draw, where he could dress the way he wanted to, eat whatever he wanted, and not be bothered? It would have to also cater to his odd hours, allowing for time on any other fancy that happened upon him… There was a thought of a place niggling at the edges of his mind, and L could tell that it would be an obvious answer that would comply with all of his needs.

L got up and padded over to the drawers that held his smaller sweets, bypassing the cookie drawer and instead pulling a cherry lolly pop from a box, its wrapper crinkling as L twisted and pulled the sugary goodness from within, holding the stem of the treat the same way he held the fork, giving an experimental lick to the treat before sliding it into his mouth.

Clothes don't matter, what you eat doesn't matter, time is of no consequence, at least if you have the right connections, and there's no need for any special social conduct…

Ah.

That thought was brought to the forefront of his mind, and a dozen different possibilities sprung up, different ways for this to become a reality. This was the solution to the artists 'writers block' that would allow L to continue drawing, dress the way he wanted to, eat what he wanted, let any peculiarity in his personality be of no consequence, and would only be a matter of the right documents being shown and the right papers being forged.

Simple, it really is.

"Watari, I believe that I'm going to go to school…"

TBC

Hope you liked it... i think that i am going to be serious with this, buuut... reviews would convince me more :3

Seriously though... i need critiques, i need input... this is the ground work for this... if i need to change anything or work on one aspect, i won't realise it untill it's too late, and it'll be all because you were too lazy to press that little rectangle that says "Review" in green...

please and thank you, working on the next chapter tomorrow after school, soooo, yeah :P

~Doodled93~


	2. Chapter 2 Black Eyes

Hey People, sorry for the delay, but the chapter would NOT STOP! so yeah, it's pretty long... you've probably noticed that by now...

This doesn't have much of L's pov, but I'm doing that next chapter...

There are a bunch of *#'s in this, but they're just notes about it and to clarify some things, so don't go darting to the bottom of the chapter just to read it...

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, and i got a lot of this chapter's materials from my Writers Craft class (shocking i know)

Chapter 2

His hair was orange.

Yes, that isn't exactly the kind of description that a writer should be giving, but really, there it was.

No, Light wasn't so tired that his mind is short-fusing and decreasing his mental abilities, despite getting up at six that same morning.

How distracting…

Light could feel a slight dampness at the base of his neck, the only remnants of his shower from that morning, and there was a slightly bitter taste at the edges of his taste buds, though whether it was from… this (ORANGE!!!), or if it was from the black coffee that followed that shower, Light only had the vaguest of clues.

Is that even natural? Can't be…

Light figured that descriptions had three main levels, and many people got them mixed up with each other, but usually the highest rating for descriptions were easily recognizable. Yes, saying that a person's hair was orange wasn't too brilliant of a description, but in terms of those three categories, it ranked a two. Surprising? Well, this is how it works out…

A level one description, the lowest level of description, could be described (ha) as cliché. Clumsy even. This means that it's over-used, or it doesn't really make sense, or that someone is trying too hard to make a level three description, but we'll get more into that in a bit.

An example? Sure… oh, here's one, ever heard "he was as strong as an ox"? It's cliché. It's bad. Who's actually seen a bull, in real life I mean? Okay, if you have, have you ever tested the strength of one? Okay, sure, it's a freaking OX, it's strong. But that's about as relevant as saying that fish could swim.

Sure. Yeah. I know… and?

Anyway, moving on to another example, just so that you can understand what I mean by clumsy, how about (and this is totally just made up) "his legs were like square cut carrots"? If you're looking for uniqueness, then sure, it's unique… in a What The Fuck kind of way.

What the hell would you even mean by that? Square cut carrots? That doesn't describe anything. Maybe he has… orange legs? Umm… well, what kind of square cut carrots? What does that even mean? Does that mean that everyone has the same mental image of square cut carrots? And since when have legs looked anything like carrots, or, if you'd like, when have people been cutting their carrots to look like legs? And wouldn't that mean that they're leg shaped carrots?

Ugh, carrots are orange, and so is his hair… is it a wig? No, no I don't think so…

Orange hair was still talking with Matsuda (evil, EVIL Matsuda), his squinty brown eyes darting around the room like he didn't know where to keep them. Floor, Light (me), Matsuda, Wall, light (not me), Light (me), Floor… he was like a cartoon jittery rabbit, one of the ones that loved eating his hair—Carrots. The ones that loved eating carrots.

Yes. Carrots.

Anyway, back to the levels. So Level One would be classified as cliché or clumsy, then level two would be classified as… useful.

Yes, that's a good word for it. Useful.

It's useful because it says what it means. It means what it says. It's not legs like square cut carrots. Level Two's are the bases for Level Three's. Without that basis, you're probably going to end up with square cut carrot legs.

Level Two is saying that something was circular, rather than saying it was orb like in shape. Everyone knows what a circle is (and if you don't then maybe you shouldn't be reading this), but go look up "orb" on Google. Go on, look it up, go to images, and see what you'll find. You'll see circular shapes, random paintings, a bed, and maybe a couch or two. The moral of this is that, if you want people to know exactly what you mean, stick with the simple things. A circle. Or, if you want to make it three-dimensional or artistic and creative, then make it ball-like, and describe its surface a bit, make it interesting. But no one really wants to read a page about a circular thing. Stick with simple; add details later if it's relevant.

So, "his hair is orange" is a level two description. It puts it in your mind, it describes it perfectly. It's ORANGE.

WHO have you ever seen who ACTUALLY has ORANGE hair? Outside of an Archie Comic book, or maybe a really extreme salon, probably not. You've probably seen strawberry blonde, or an odd redhead.

Orange describes it. He's got orange hair, he's got carrot-coloured hair, it's like his head was an orange, and all but the top was peeled.

--Well, that last one was pretty bad, but who can really concentrate on good descriptions when you have that glaring at you? Whatever, the orange is obviously toxic, so the level descriptions will finish later…

"—oh, I'm sure that the students will be thrilled," a slightly squeaky voice came from carrot man, making Light wonder if he was even old enough to be teaching the class. His voice was jumping around like the jittery rabbit he was connected with earlier, and he hardly looked to have finished high school, let alone any sort of university or college.

Maybe they let him pass because they were blinded by his hair and wanted him gone…

The reddish face had a lopsided smile on it, making his face slightly better looking (but not nearly as attractive as Lights own features), a smattering of faint freckles spread across his not-quite prominent cheek bones. His squinty eyes were widened with what Light could only guess was excitement, his pupils narrowed to pinpoints like he had a flashlight pointed at his face. Or like he was having a heart attack…

Matsuda, the idiot who had tried to get me to come to this thing months ago, turned to give me one of his dopey smiles, rubbing his hand through the back of his wavy black hair and, oh god please kill me now, gave me a thumbs up. Why did I agree to this? Oh yeah, it paid cash… lots of it. Per Hour.

Closing his eyes and slowly counting to ten, Light vaguely heard Mr. Carrot say that the only thing left was an interview (to get an 'opinion of him'… pfft, sure), and that would conclude business, and he would get back to Light if he got the position.

Great, 'cause Light could oh-so-obviously not wait till he got this job. How did he know he'd get the job? Simple. When you looked like Light, a job of this sort would fit as impeccably as Lights tailored clothes.

If he didn't end up getting the job (which he won't), it'll be because Light didn't have an ounce of unflattering fat in his whole body.

"You can do it Light! I'm sure you'll do fine!" Matsuda gave me a hearty (evil) grin and a parting pat (punch) on the back (ouch), leaving the large, desk and easel filled room to allow Light and Mr. Carrot Top to have some privacy. As if they needed it. Any and all of the things that the veggie boy would ask, Matsuda would probably already know.

Light gave out a slow exhalation of air that could almost be a sigh, giving his hair a small flip and moving a percentage of his attention to the… _would he be called an orangette_?

"So, Mr. Yagami, have you had any experience in this field before?"

_Orange head makes it seem like he gets drugged up on oranges or something… wait, any experience in this field? What the fuck would I say if I did? Oh, yes, I've gotten naked so people can draw me millions of times. Sure. As if._

"No."

He looked a little bit unsure about it. Right, cause when you're (not really) trying to get a job, you tell them you have no experience.

"Uhm, okay, well you have to start somewhere. Why are you interested in this job?"

_I'm not. I don't want to start ANYWHERE. But I need money, or else I'm going to be kicked out of my apartment in about a month and a half, maybe two if I stop buying coffee (BLASPHEMY), and this job pays in the three digits per hour… but if I want that three digit per hour pay, should I say that? No… well, changing from charmingly polite to full out charm mode. He probably won't remember what I've actually said after this but…those three digits really _are_ appealing…_

Light gave him a slow smile, noting that his already red face got just that little bit more flushed, tilting his head at that angle so that his hair would drape just _so_, then gave a slow blink.

Don't ask why people seemed to think that it was attractive, but the slow blink, paired with the head tilt and the equally slow smile apparently made everything Light did seem more personal. Like he was intentionally attractive just for _you_, yes _you_, and only your opinion matters…

Some people can delude themselves in amazing ways…

As a test, Light once did it in one of his classes, at a time where he knew he was going to sneeze (he could feel it coming), and had just managed not to get any of the fluids that resulted from his classmates on himself.

Yes, the slow smile/blink and head tilt combo could make a sneeze sexy.

Half of the class as well as the teacher were sent to the hospital due to blood loss that day…

Keeping his voice smooth and low, Light gave some dumbass reason that only mentioned money once (he wasn't going to lie entirely), and some other fluff comments that said less than what the orange haired guy probably got from it.

The Archie (*1) wanna-be kept looking at Light even after he stopped talking, an unfocused look in his eyes and a dazed smile on his face.

After a few minutes of this, Light asked, in as tentative a voice as he could manage, if that was all, not giving away that he'd much rather be at home writing than being here.

But that was a problem in itself. Light had writers block, so he couldn't write anything that he had a real interest in. and that, as well as a need of cash, had led him to call Matsuda about this job.

Leaving the art room and its blushing occupant (who was still dazzled and telling him that he'd call the next day to tell if he got the job or not {_as if there was a possibility he wouldn't_}), and made his way out of the building and on his way back to his apartment.

His... friend Matsuda had called Light up a few months ago, talking excitedly about how one of his old friends (that orange haired guy…?) was overseeing this class and had asked him if he had known anyone who would be a good model. Matsuda had asked what kind of person his friend had wanted for this, and the description given had caused him to immediately think of Light.

The friend had said that he wanted to go for something different. Most of the other art teachers had gotten larger models, to show the play of light and shadow, but this guy had apparently thought that his students should get an array of different kinds of models. He'd already gotten in a couple of the larger models, and his students were adept at drawing them, enough so that instead of the hour-per-pose that they were given, they instead only needed half an hour to 40 minutes to draw and shade. So, to give a change of pace, he instead wanted someone, male or female, who was slim, fairly fit, and more magazine 'model-like' than the others.

The guy had also admitted to Matsuda that slimmer figures were apparently harder to draw in some cases, if only because the smallest mistakes were the more noticeable ones. But he needed the model in the next couple of weeks, maybe a month. (*2)

So Matsuda had called up Light immediately, categorizing him as a model-like figure as well as assessing that Light was fit and slim, and since Light didn't currently have a job, it was convenient!

And Light, still going to university at the time, had promptly told him no.

Light had figured that if he needed any cash while he was still in school he could always help out with a case, and that was what he did. Matsuda knew that, being on the workforce himself and having worked with Light when he helped his father with a case (heck, it's how the MET), but he still took the time to try to swindle Light into going for an interview.

At the time, Light had told Matsuda in no uncertain terms that he didn't have any kind of fantasy to get drawn naked by a bunch of strangers in any way, and that he would NOT say yes to this.

Light sighed, making his way up the stairs that led to his apartment, pulling out his keys and unlocking the door.

Yet he went.

He got interviewed.

And he'd be going in to the job in just a couple of days.

* * *

"Is everything in order?"

"Yes L, you'll be going to an art school about an hour away. You'll be going to the morning and afternoon classes, rather than going to other classes…. Though, I have to ask, how is going to an art class a change of pace?"

L gave a smile to his caretaker, either side of his mouth curling up and inwards, his round dark eyes told the older man that his charge was delighted inside with his solution to his artists block.

"I just don't want to change. Where can you go where you can dress the way you want, act the way you want, eat what you want, and not have anyone be able to say anything about it, so long as it's legal?"

Watari pondered this for a moment, placing a plate full of an assortment of cookies in front of the erratic artist, smiling himself when e realized exactly how L had come to the conclusion.

"I see… and I'm sure that the large donation that you said to include would help keep anyone from asking in any case… and am I right in guessing that you don't want to abandon your work, even for a temporary artists block?"

L's smile widened around the chocolate chip cookie he now had in his mouth.

"you've got it… and I figure that if I have something not of my choosing to focus on, that's as much of a change of pace as anything else would be… hnh, maybe I should have just drawn things from the internet, but… no, that wouldn't be as good, and I don't want to… _copy_ others works," L said the word like it left a bad taste in his mouth, his mouth twisting to the side slightly, bringing the few crumbs stuck to it with it, a small crease forming between his eyebrows.

L didn't like copying. If it's already been done, why do it again?

If you like someone else's work so much that you want to o the same thing, then at least make it original. There's no point in doing it otherwise… it'd be like trying to copy someone else's personality… no fun for you or the person you're imitating… L knew firsthand about that.

Watari nodded in understanding, pulling papers from a cabinet and giving them to L for inspection.

"Here are the forms stating that you, Ryuuzaki Hideki, are to go to the school for the art classes. They sent back this package," and here Watari handed L another package, "including a list of what you are expected to bring in to class with you, or else the money required to purchase the materials from the school itself. They also included a course outline sheet with the package, seeing as how you are not beginning at the beginning of the semester. You start the day after tomorrow, on Monday."

L, picking up either end of the course outline sheet delicately between his thumb and forefinger as if someone had just used it for something unsanitary, scanned over the page, passing the prices for materials that were listed at the top of the page (unimportant), and moved to the courses.

The smile that had slowly faded to a neutral look over time came back as a small smirk.

"Apparently the current subject is Life Drawing…"

L had never had the inclination to draw naked people… the idea of having a chubby person (for they all seem to believe that chubby is the way to go if you want to be a life drawing model) pose for him to draw hadn't seemed that appealing.

But then again, the idea of even a slim person modeling for him to draw had only a spark of interest for him… at least the larger models had a bit more of a mind… the slimmer models always seemed to think that this was one step towards being on the cover of some magazine, that if they were drawn naked by the right person that they'd be discovered and truck loads of cash will start rolling in for them…

Right, because the naked drawings of a university student will draw attention to the MODEL rather than to the artist…

In any case, chubby or anorexic models aside, having a drawing _assigned_ to him… well that would be interesting.

Yes, this would be a change of pace indeed…

* * *

How do you dress, Light wondered, when you're going to go get naked in front of a class?

Should he dress simply? Well he certainly wasn't going to go _in_ naked…

If he got dressed as if he was trying to impress someone, would that be redundant since he'd be taking everything off anyway?

Does it really matter? It's all coming off anyway…

But no, Light couldn't just put on jeans and a tee and be done with it—well; he could (and actually did) put on jeans and a t-shirt, but he couldn't be messy about it.

Light put on a white clean-cut button-down, nothing underneath it since it was solid enough of a white that aside from getting soaked, it wouldn't reveal anything.

Well, that and the weather was warm enough that day to allow him not to increase his laundry load. Laundry detergent was getting pretty expensive… it was either wearing less clothes, or buy less coffee, not that hard of a decision actually…

Mmm, coffee…

After showering, getting dressed, and getting breakfast and coffee, Light headed to the university, a heavy feeling of dread lying like a lump of lead in his stomach.

What the hell is actually going to happen? Light wasn't worried about having to stay still for long periods of time, nor was he worried about how strenuous some of the poses were going to be.

Why? Oh, Light did yoga. He had been since before high school, and regardless of what his male 'friends' said, it wasn't a girly thing to do. And Light proved it every gym class when he outshone them with his skill and endurance. Okay, sure, some of that was just because Light had a natural affinity to most (all) things, including sports, but for some reason being able to label some of his athleticism to doing yoga made the male populace of his schools happier.

It helped Lights already high popularity with the female populace skyrocket too, so there usually wasn't any problem with any of his acquaintances, not to mention that it solidified that while yoga was done by mostly females, that means that any classes Light had were filled with girls.

Flexible, fit girls.

And any time those odd male few made a suggestion about what they could do with him to test out his limberness; Light didn't even have to show them, only using his Level Three descriptive prowess to get them to run away.

But yoga or not, Light still didn't know how the hell this would work. Heck, how was he supposed to act? Welcoming? No, that seems a bit off…

Oh, wait; Level Three was never described, was it?

Well, just as a recap, Level One is cliché and clumsy (clumsy as in there's an attempt at a level three but it fails horribly), and Level Two descriptions are useful and are to the point (see description just used to get an idea of them—{useful and to the point}).

Level Three's are the descriptions that stuck with you. Starting off as a level two, a writer can build off of it, making it unique yet still to the point, giving an interesting image to the reader that stays with them. One such description that one of Lights brighter Lit. Teachers had told, though disgusting, was "shit green."

Though what it was used to describe is lost, that really is a good description. Sure, you hear that something is emerald green, grass green, apple green… well, if you heard that someone's eyes were shit green, wouldn't you remember that more than that their eyes were grass green?

"Liiiiight!!!!" a too-cheerful (for this early in the morning) voice called out, jerking Light out of his thoughts.

_Oh, great, why is he here?_

Light was at the steps leading into the brick building that made up the art department of the university, and there was Matsuda, waving crazily (and gaining stares), his big cheerful (and mildly evil) grin on his face. Why the hell would he come here?

A sudden thought made Light falter in his steps, blood draining from his face rapidly and a dizzying/sickening overtaking him.

—_noooo, he couldn't—he couldn't be TAKING the class—no, he's too—no, he's MATSUDA, I won't have to get NAKED in front of Matsuda!_

Oblivious to his thoughts, Matsuda continued waving as if he hadn't already seen the idiot. A shiver of disgust dripped its way down from the top of his head, moving down his spine and across his shoulders, pausing at his stomach long enough to make him queasy before moving back up, raising the hair at the nape of his neck. The feeling was very much like what Light imagined having an egg dropped on your head would feel like, cold egg yolk and white clinging to everything…

It was not a pleasant thought, and Light shoved the thought of Matsuda seeing him naked as well as the mental image of having an egg broken over his head into a not so little box at the back of his mind labeled "Things That Will NOT Happen," and instead walked calmly (if not a little stiffly) towards his friend (in the LOOSEST of terms), intent on making sure that one subject in the "TTWNH" box would **stay** in the "TTWNH" box. But before Light could even open his mouth, Matsuda answered his question.

"Oh, hey Light," why are you talking like you just noticed me when you were nearly disjointing you arm with your waving earlier…? "I just came by today to make sure that you got here on time… but looking at your record, it seems kind of redundant…" oh my, a big word.

"Oh, and I was also coming in here to make sure that you were all settled in with this and everything!" settled in and everything? How do you get settled in when your job is to get naked and stand very still? And what's everything? There is no everything! There's just me getting naked in front of a room full of strangers! Fuck, after this I'm only going to be a hop, a skip, and a tranquilizer gun away from a one way trip to a padded room and a straight jacket…

But no, Light did not mention any of this, simply keeping calm (at least on the outside) and not hitting Matsuda over the head with a rolled up newspaper… or a stick… or a crow bar…

"…Right… well, I'm just going to head inside now…" to my doom, but Light decided to leave the end of that sentence alone in his thoughts.

Walking to the room ("Room 1827!" {*3} called Matsuda happily), Light was happy (relieved) to find that there were only a few students setting up for the class. That meant that he had a little more time before he had to admit that he was relieved. Taking a seat that was set up by the wall, Light sat down, leaning his head back slightly and closing his eyes, ignoring the looks he received from the few students that were already there as well as mostly ignoring the chatter about the current case that Matsuda was working on. He kept half an ear to that, listening for something that he didn't already know about the case.

Maybe he could work on a mystery…? Some kind of detective story would work… but Light wanted to do something with a bit more of a fantasy-type feel to it…

More and more students made their way into the classroom at an almost steady trickle, all of them sending glances at Light as they set up their easels around the empty space that dominated the middle of the room.

The room itself, though Light hadn't given it much of a glance when he got inside today, was easily pictured, even with his eyes still closed. One wall made up of shelving, filled with art supplies and paper of different sizes and colours, boxes full of what Light figured to be maybe Canvas and frames Stacked in corners. Giant rolls of more canvas were leaned up against the walls, waiting for someone to stretch the material across an empty frame.

Two walls were dominated by a line of windows, giving more light than the square fluorescent lights that were hung from the ceiling.

All set up facing inwards, an array of desks and odd bench things that had grooves in the seat as well as a tall plank held up against one of the narrower sides that Light vaguely remembered from one conversation or another to be a… horse? It sounded right, but he knew that he was missing one part of the name, but he honestly couldn't care less about what it was. It probably made it so that the wanna-be artist could straddle the bench thing and lean up a canvas or board or something against the tall part of it and draw. (*4)

In the very center of the room, at the centroid of the circle the desks and horse-things made was a platform of sorts that Light didn't even bother trying to fool himself about its purpose.

Peeking one of his eyes open and giving a quick scan of how many students there were as well as glancing at the clock (approximately 13 students {8 girls to 5 boys}, Matsuda (GO AWAY!), the orange haired guy {unnatural!}, and there's about 8 minutes left until class officially starts {please no more people!}), Light gave a glare at the podium.

That was the place where Light would have to be stripped to his birthday suit and be drawn… ugh, that makes it seem like someone else is going to get him undressed, and Light couldn't help but think that an appropriate ending of that sentence would be 'drawn and quartered'… that certainly seems like what he had signed himself up for, or at least that would be the equivalent for the comfort level…

Peeling his glare from the platform, Light turned his attention towards the still chattering Matsuda, only toning the glare down a little bit.

Sure, it was because of Matsuda that he was here, but it's also because of Matsuda that Light was introduced to those three wonderful digits of pay-per-hour that would save Light, his coffee, and his apartment. Light could keep his apartment without giving up his coffee, he could keep his coffee without giving up his apartment, and Light himself would be able to stay out of his parent's house.

A win-win situation… especially with the last point.

Light knew that it was a horrible thing to think, but the only person that he actually missed in that house was his little sister, Sayu.

His mother only cared about marks when he was in school, and Light was sure that that would be transferred to money income now that he wasn't in school anymore.

His father had a dream that he'd graduate and go to the police force, or maybe get a job as a Private detective, and when Light had announced that no, he wasn't doing either of those things, his father had figured that he'd be a lawyer or something of the sort since he had the credentials from night school mixed with online courses mixed in with regular school, and he'd nearly fainted when he found out that his genius son wanted to be a _writer_ of all things.

Well, that was pretty much blasphemy in Lights fathers eyes.

Now SAYU on the other hand, aside from occasionally (a lot) asking for help with her homework, well, she didn't ask anything from Light except to be friends. Yup, friends.

She'd known about Light's wish to be a writer, she'd known about the borderline best-seller that Light had given in when he was 15 under the penname Kira (*5) (and got a good deal of money from it that's sent to his bank account with any earnings he still gets from it), and she was the first and only person that Light yelled at.

He felt bad about it, yelling and ranting about their parents to his little sister, and there was the fear that she'd go tell their parents all about it, but she'd sat there in his room, watching and listening to him storm around his room on a night that their parents were out, ranting and yelling about—everything. She'd watched, listened, and then calmly told him that he was acting stupid. THEN she told him in a no-nonsense voice that he was stupid because he hadn't come to her when he was feeling that stressed, and that if he didn't come to her before he got stressed like this, then there would be consequences. Then she gave him a _look_.

Any words that even a great writer like Light may have given to describe the look would have fallen short a few hundred miles of its mark, so let's just leave it as a _look_.

"—ohp! I guess I should be going now Light, it looks like class is starting soon! I'll see you later then! (*6)"

A quick glance at the clock showed that Matsuda was actually right, and at that moment Light was torn between happiness that the way too chipper man was leaving and a feeling of dread/fear that was squirming in his stomach at what that meant.

The toxic-orange haired guy who Light couldn't seem to remember the name of stood up in front of the much larger class (the numbers nearly doubled!!! Twenty-fucking-two!!! How many students are allowed per class?!), quieting the low murmur that was coming from the students.

Pulling his crossed arms tighter across his chest, Light went through his steps to stay calm and collected, to put on a likeable face for the students, but not a cocky one. Wow, that was really misplaced word for this situation, but Light wasn't about to think about that for too long.

"As I told you before, we have a new model for today. Today's model is different from our previous ones," _no duh_, "and I hope that you'll be able to find inspiration when drawing him," _pervert teaching perverts… oh, no, he's motioning for me to get up… okay, smile slightly, no slow blink, don't want blood on your shirt, put neutral look on face, walk towards him… introduce self, nothing else… great, talk, talk, talk about the apparent and obvious difference between me and larger models… okay, going to corner to get changed… undressed… whatever…_

_Ignore the twenty-two sets of eyes watching me undress because they're perverts, avoid embarrassing yourself more than you have to and DON'T try to cover yourself when you walk the 6 steps to the platform, do NOT allow the blush that's trying to come on to appear because it will show EVERYWHERE, don't give them that satisfaction… do NOT punch the boy with the bad hair job when he starts pointing out the differences that he already said earlier, no matter that he deserves it for getting his sweaty little paws that close to me… okay, breath, breath… so what's the first pose?_

_Standing… wow, how challenging… and it's going to change every hour? Less if everyone finished quickly? Well aren't they just a bunch of little Van Gogh's… oh, jeeze, just adding to the complexity of this pose, I'm supposed to have my right arm across my stomach and on my left hip, left arm behind my back in the same way but resting the back of my hand against my right hip… joy of joys… Ignore the giggling and the blushes, ignore the multitude of people sporting nose-bleeds…_

"And Start!" the annoying little carrot man practically shouted. What? Does he think he's starting a race?

Resisting the temptation to sigh, Light gave a quick look around the room, eyeing the people who were ogling his fit and slim body like he was a hunk of chocolate in front of a horde of fat kids.

Their looks were fairly varied, but most were dressed 'artistically', which consisted of dark gothic clothes to garishly bright clothes, to tutus to 'gangster' pants and Sponge Bob boxers/panties, and—

Slightly to the left from directly in front of Light, there was a strange crouched person not trying to look unique and artistic like everyone else… baggy jeans and a long sleeved white shirt, a mess of what could be the very definition of unruly black locks set upon a pale faced head, and, just under a flick of inky black hair stared out the blackest—and he really meant it—the Blackest eyes Light Yagami had ever seen.

**TBC**

*1– **Archie Wanna be**– you know, from the Archie comics? With Jughead and Veronica and Betty? If you don't know of it then you need to go out more…

*2 – **talk about how the skinny models are harder to draw than the bigger figures**– I'm not just shitting this… I've had to do model drawings and the slimmer figures are HARD to do… in class, we had to draw a bigger lady, and she was pretty easy to draw (even if I HATE foreshortening) and I tried drawing a skinnier person from a pic online (cause some people have too much time and put up pics of ppl naked online {and no, I didn't look up porn}) to see the difference and it was EVIL!… If I had to draw a figure like Light, then I wouldn't have bothered with drawing and just take pics instead! :D

*3 –**Room 1827 **– this is my fav pairing in KHR! I realize this has no relevance in the story, but if you like this pairing then review and tell me so! If I get 20+ reviews saying they like it, then I'll make a story filled with 1827 ficlets :P

*4 – **the bench thing that I can't remember the name of **– I think it's called a drawing horse, and my school has a bunch of these, but I seriously can't remember the name…

*5 – **Kira** – c'mon, you know that it would have to show up somewhere in this fic… :3 and you know that you smiled/smirked when you saw it (or at least you are while you're reading this)

*6 – **all the "!'s"** – doesn't everything this guy say seem like it needs a '!' at the end of it?

And okay, that's the end of that chapter!

Hope you liked it, and if you did, then review and tell me what you like, and if you didn't, then review and tell me what you didn't like, and if you say Meh to it, then revew and tell me why it was only Meh

Ciao

~Doodled93~


	3. Chapter 3 Cause of death: Idiocy

Hey all! Haven't updated this one for a while, so sorry about that :P Bet a few of you entirely forgot about it, eh? I don't mind...

Someone mentioned a while ago (real time, rather than a long time ago in a couple of chapters reasoning) taht it seemed as if I was going really slow with the plotline... I find no need to rush it. If anyone has read my story Violet Eyes, you'll note that it's taken me up till recently to even get from Wave country to Konoha, so you'll notice that i don't like rushing that much...

I do, in fact, need to get things moving though, but I'm not terribly worried about it. I know it will get done... I've actually had most of this since before last summer (2010), but I didn't have the end of it. Sux, yes, but I haven't been able to figure it out, sooo... yeah, sorry about that.

Aside from that I hope that the delay won't mean that you all will have to reread the last chapter (or not, just gives me a higher read count :D), and if you did I'll just assume that it wasn't TOO scarring of an experience...

HOPE YOU ENJOY THE CHAPTER! PLEASE REVIEW!

ENJOY!

Chapter 3: Cause of Death: Idiocy

When L had crept into the classroom a few scant minutes before class started, he'd scanned the room, noting all of the 'unique' styles of dress of the other students as well as the assortment of art supplies set around the room… not organized in a way that _he'd_ have set it up, but then, he wasn't the teacher.

The teacher himself looked to be hardly older than the students he taught, with an offensively orange topped head and eyes too small for his face. He was standing beside what L assumed to be his desk, a crowd of students surrounding him as he gestured about something or other. _What an ugly colour of orange…_

L felt his eye twitch.

Most of the students were milling about, getting easels and canvases and sketchbooks out and set up around a stage in the middle of the room, a few setting cushions on the floor space around it.

_So that's where the model will be… _

L was slightly curious about Life Drawing. The possibility of having someone get the chance to leak his identity hadn't ever been something he'd considered doing before, and this gave him a perfect chance to try this out without the possibility of the model revealing anything they had no right to reveal. He was Ryuuzaki Hideki here, not L. He was simply a young male interested in art and wanted to continue working on it… the fact that he was, to the university at least, a very rich young man who so happened to have donated a couple thousand dollars to each department didn't matter. That was a convenient plus to the situation.

Continuing his scan of the room, there was one area that stood out from the rest (he should know, his career being to create compositions). A slightly isolated corner of the room, near the door, sparsely populated by the students that seemed to swarm in the room sat what L assumed to be a student, or maybe a graduate, reclining against the wall.

Posture slack, but with a graceful control that kept him from slouching, he had soft brown hair that fell artfully around his smooth and classically handsome face, broad shoulders that filled his crisp and obviously ironed white shirt, and long legs stretched out in stylishly faded jeans that L had to wonder if he had tailored to him.

Beside the Adonis of a man sat another, avidly chatting to him. Wavy black hair and an expression so open it must hurt, L had to wonder why exactly he was with the caramel haired man, and why he was dealing with him.

Moving that problem to the back of his mind, L found a seat closer to the corner of the room, slightly out of the way but in a position to see the platform clearly, even if someone should sit on the floor in front of him.

I wonder where the model is…

The orange topped teacher moved to the 'front' of the class, quieting the murmur of voices.

"As I told you before, we have a new model for today. Today's model is different from our previous ones and I hope that you'll be able to find inspiration when drawing him." And with that, he gestured towards the corner where the Adonis is.

_Hmm, different? I hope he isn't going to have that wavy haired enthusiastic dumbass be the model._ But a glance showed that the annoyance had left, and—_oh my_—the Adonis was standing up.

He stood, eyes like melted honey sweeping the room with studied indifference, and smiled slightly. A couple girls around the room sighed. L couldn't blame them; he wanted to do so himself.

He walked—no _glided_—towards the center platform and smiled around the room, giving a smooth voiced introduction, _Light Yagami_, and gave no sign of continuing in his sweet voice.

Ignoring the orange haired teacher and his talk about how Light-kun was apparently different from the other models, something L thought was a bit redundant; L took the time to examine the model longer. Auburn, perfectly arranged locks topped his smooth face. Almond eyes, both in shape and colour, above regal cheekbones, a nose neither too long, short, wide nor narrow to be considered unattractive above pinkish almost pouty lips. His skin glowed with the slight tan of someone who spent a good amount of time outside, but his eyes told of enough intelligence to tell L that he wasn't what many consider to be a sport bound 'jock', as well as the smoothness that denied any roughness that would have accumulated from windy outdoor sports.

Abruptly, any modest examinations were interrupted when this Light character tilt his head downwards slightly and start unbuttoning his white shirt, starting in on his pants immediately afterwards, soon clad only in his boxers, and then not even that.

L noticed that he started with the top buttons of his shirt, telling of no false modesty had he started from the bottom. L would have dismissed this had he donned a shirt under it, but he had apparently forgone that. A smoothly toned chest that carried the sandy colouring of his face was revealed, making L wonder at once if it was his natural skin tone as well as if the lack of false modesty was because of an awareness of his appearance. Dusty brown nipples drew L's eyes to his Pecs, and even as he watched, they peaked and hardened into nubs in the cooler air.

His almost shameless disrobing answered both questions; yes it was his natural skin tone, and unless it was a procedure he was used to, Light-kun was apparently very aware of how his body had little to no flaws.

The pants were unbuttoned, unzipped, and slipped off in a smooth motion (L had to wonder if EVERYTHING he did had to be smoothly done), and socks were removed with hardly a pause, making even that act seem graceful. Clothes were folded neatly (_probably to keep any unsightly wrinkles from forming_) and set to the side. There was a barely perceptible pause as Light-kun hooked his thumbs under the elastic waistband of his boxers (_I wonder if anyone else noticed that…?_) and then they were pulled off and folded along with the rest of his clothes.

That slight hesitation told L a couple of things, one of which was that this Light wasn't used to having to be naked in front of people… _interesting_…

There was a moment of silence where everyone supposedly gazed at the expanse of flesh exposed, and Light-kun walked (strutted/glided… _how does he do that?_) the few steps to the podium… and thus L's examination resumed. Though with a decidedly less modest thought progress that would have made anyone else embarrassed to be thinking. But, seeing as how it WAS L, he was only mildly impressed that Light-kun had managed to get this thought process flowing… as well as the interesting amount of blood flowing southward… _I don't believe I've ever gotten an erection from a man before…_

Smooth muscle flexed underneath model skin as Light-kun made his way onto the platform, arms moving to their position as the orange top instructed (_is that an eye roll? Must be because of the tame position… hmm, I can think of a couple positions I'd like him in_).

To L's luck, Light was more or less facing him (_though I'm sure the view from behind is as good_), so his observations could continue.

Strong wide shoulders, sleek physique, washboard abs, a treasure trail leading to a patch of curls that tell that no, he doesn't dye his hair, long legs that are saved from being feminine by chorded muscle… the stirring heat in L's groin intensified, and he shook his head slightly to snap out of the daze that the gorgeous male in front of him had put him under.

_How out of character for me… _

L pulled out his sketch pad, setting it up on an easel so he could keep his seated position, and pulled a pencil with a lighter lead shade from… somewhere, and started out his sketch.

The other students were working with the basic rules of measurement, and L went over them in his own head even as he skipped over them.

_This Life drawing is easy… and he's such a… pleasure to draw…_ an idea started to form in L's mind, but he pushed it to the back of his mind to explore later, along with the accumulating fantasies that involved the model.

(*1) The best way to draw a model, as the books L had read said, was by measuring with a part of the models anatomy (_should I use his-? No, that would simply take too much time even if he isn't small, and would be too much of a distraction_), usually the head. This is usually done by extending your arm straight and getting the measurements of the models head between your thumb and forefinger. A standing model of average height (_Light-kun seemed to be around 'average' height, if a little taller_), is approximately 7 head lengths tall, and two head lengths wide at the shoulders. Moving down, with the models actual head as a start, the neck ends approximately two thirds to a half a head length down, at which point the measurement for the two head lengths wide, one head length for each shoulder. This varies from each model and body type.

Continuing on, the belly button of the model would be approximately (again from the top of the head) at the bottom of three head lengths down. Another head length down (that would be 4 head lengths from the top of the body) is where the crotch line is located (_hmm, I wonder how many lengths it would take for Light-kun to get to my crotch line…_). The width of the hips, waist and chest varies from each model and body type, and can be measure by head lengths or by using another part of the body for the measurement.

The knees are approximately (*2) one and a half head lengths below the crotch line (so at 6.5 head lengths down from the top of the head), and the ankles are around 1/3 head lengths up from the bottom of the 7th head length (_Light-kun's ankles are sexy too… he's a very tricky man…_).

Moving back up to the shoulders, the arms are the next measurements that are described.

The upper arm, extending from the shoulder to the elbow, ends at the same point as the bellybutton, told above at three heads down. The forearm, extending between the elbow and the wrist, ends at approximately the same place as the crotch line. The tip of the fingers on the hands ends approximately half way down the thigh.

By the time that the other students were finishing with a vague outline of Light, L was already well into shading the slight curves and contours that were so generously displayed.

It was kind of disappointing for L that Light-kun had to stick to such a simple stance, but he comforted himself with the thought that surely the hair-dye-crazy 'teacher' would probably get Light to get into some more… flexible poses.

And oh, did Light-kun look as if he'd be able to do so _many_ flexible positions.

_I wonder if he does yoga… that would be interesting…_

L finished his full body picture in a short amount of time, and a glance around the room at the movements of the other students showed that they would be done by the time limit, and only a small percentage of those before then.

Deciding that, while sitting here and staring at the artistic dream that was Light Yagami would be very pleasant, getting another drawing done of him would be in order.

_Hmm, what to do… I could do isolations for any body part that I want… hmm, while that part is tempting, I believe that the light play on Light's face is interesting right now. _

So L went to a new page and continued sketching, managing several drawings in a couple different mediums before the orange haired male called time.

L smiled as Light set up for his next pose.

This was turning out to be a rather… insightful class.

* * *

Wow is this boring…

Light truly wondered if there was ever such a mind numbing experience as listening to Matsuda ramble about… something (frankly, Light didn't care to know), and lo and behold, a contestant!

The fact that it was SUGGESTED by Matsuda spoke volumes.

While this modeling job may have sounded impressive to the less intelligent and more appearance focused and to the more vapid populace, it was a lot of doing nothing.

Well, nothing as in staying still for prolonged amounts of time anyway.

There's nothing to do but stand and think… oh, and try not to shift around too much.

Hell, I did this as a change of pace, for me to get my mind on other things. But instead, I have nothing to focus on! The only way this is a change of pace is that instead of trying to move forward, I'm standing still!

He could feel his left leg cramping up slightly, and he moved to rest his weight on his right instead. Glancing around, Light noticed the incessant amount of giggles coming from the mostly female class. Most everyone from his perspective had a flush high in their cheeks.

Perverts…

They were all dressed 'artistically' (as he'd noted beforehand), as if that would make a difference in their art. As if dressing like the current cliché 'unique' people, they themselves would be unique. One girl, in the front to the right, was wearing tight black jeans, a bright lime green tank top, and a Barbie pink frilly tutu. Her hair looked like it was styled from some Star Wars movie, and her face had enough makeup to make Lady Gaga wince. As it is, Lady Gaga herself made Light wince. If only Sayu hadn't tried to 'educate' Light musically in return for the free math tutorials, he wouldn't be able to make that kind of internal comment. Why she thought that this would be adequate, he didn't know, but his eardrums cursed her for it.

The girl's flush could be seen, even under all the makeup, and when she looked up from her ogling and met his eyes, she stared and then collapsed, a trail of blood staining her tank top a brownish red colour.

Yep, all of them are perverts.

Particularly the strange student with the dark eyes.

When he'd first noticed him, all he'd noticed was that he was dressed fairly normally—if a little sloppily.

Old baggy jeans and a wrinkled, long sleeved white shirt. He had a mass of dark hair, tousled as if he'd rolled out of bed. That was certainly a possibility, Light thought, given the overall wrinkled appearance of his clothing…

He had large eyes, lacking the tilt that would show him to be a local, unless he was of mixed heritage, and from this distance all Light could tell was that they were black.

—well, black, and either he had a penchant for putting on black eyeliner or he had a severe sleeping problem.

AND he was staring.

Yes, yes, it was a given that to draw something—or someone as the case may be— there is staring involved, and even when Light wasn't standing there naked, he was used to being stared at—to a point that is…

But this guy… well he took the cake (*3) with his staring.

His eyes took in details like a sponge did water, eyes flicking everywhere and hands moved with careful precision on the material before him, holding the pencil oddly between his thumb, index, and middle fingers.

All through this, he was perched in one of the most uncomfortable positions Light could imagine being in while sitting in a chair, with legs curled to his chest, he seemed totally comfortable drawing Light, something that no one else in the class seemed to be capable of.

In fact, the guy seemed _more_ than comfortable, the pervert…

Light let his eyes drift for a moment, until they landed on the orange haired 'teacher'. Their eyes met for a moment, and red exploded in the man's cheeks and from his nose.

Ugh, the dumbass with the orange hair was still flushing at every other look, and it had been what? Twenty minutes already?

His eyes continued to drift around what he could see of the room without moving his head, landing on the insomniac every once in a while, but otherwise let his mind wander for the last minutes of the pose.

"TIME!" the orange haired teacher called out, his voice breaking half way through the enthusiastically shouted word.

Light sighed and shook out his arms and rolled his shoulders to keep his muscles warmed up, wondering once again how the dumbass managed to get a job…

_Then again, I've never held art as a particularly mindful career, so the school hiring this dumbass is proving my point…_

Light was directed into a new pose after five minutes, where the students put away their drawings, got new materials and stretched themselves.

Light laughed to himself as a good deal of both the guys and girls of the class were stretching 'provocatively', staring intently at him as he drank a glass of water that the orange haired teacher (_what was his name again…?_) had nervously handed to him.

Light had managed to go through years of yoga classes, once again with fit, attractive, _flexible_ girls (and some not so), and he'd been able to 'restrain' himself, so it was laughable that he'd be even remotely interested in these trying-too-hard-to-be-_unique_ art kids were going to tempt him at all.

Light stopped looking at the black haired panda man (with those bags, he could also be considered a raccoon…), ignoring the fact that he'd even been looking at him for any length of time, and got into the next pose.

Light noted with a roll of his eyes that this pose was a bit more risqué, and already the people in front of him were knocked out with browning red ruining their already tasteless shirts.

Gripping his elbows loosely behind his back, Light knelt on the platform and carefully lay back so that his back was arched and his elbows and opposite hands were near to his ankles. Light decided to have his eyes closed for this one, once the two girls and one guy sitting in the desks in his line of sight alternatively splayed their legs (eugh, three stupid students, two nasty thongs and a boner in a pair of jeans…) and rubbed themselves.

Not something he wanted to see.

But the panda…

Light didn't know why the Panda was so fascinating, but he was. Maybe because, though he was with this group of failures, he had intelligent eyes. Maybe it was because he had such a disregard for clothing and appearances, so different from Light's own attitude, that it was a way to study a different culture.

Culture shock sounded about right.

He was so _off… _so off the mark that Light couldn't stop looking. Like a crowd watching a car crash, or watching someone's house burn down. Though it was horrendous to look at, you couldn't look away for long.

_That must be it…_

But no, Light had seen people worse dressed before, and who looked like instead of rolling out of bed after a long night, they'd climbed out of a bathtub, and had gone out after paying homage to the porcelain god beside their impromptu 'bed'.

He seemed intelligent, yet dressed like a slob.

He was a perverted insomniac, yet had wide, almost innocent looking eyes.

He looked like a quirky main character…

Light heard some creepy laughing, as well as some sighs of contentment, and forced himself not to scowl. Instead, he thought of various ways to kill them all in horrible accidents…

But even as he was thinking on it, his practical side was wondering if he really wanted to go to prison on charges of murder.

Of course, if he hired someone to come into the classroom with a machete and chop up everyone into indistinguishable masses of blood and gore to the extent that it would need dental records to sort out who was who, it would certainly be suspicious that he was the only one not chopped up.

For that matter, it would probably be easy to question the machete wielder and get who hired him/her, unless he hired yet another person to assassinate the person, but tha would just start a vicious cycle, and bring up the money issue.

Again.

So how could he kill so many people without getting himself into trouble?

For one thing, regardless of how he did it, there was the issue about how to keep the authorities from connecting him to the murders.

If he only killed all the idiots in this class, it would be pretty fucking obvious what connected them.

So that would mean that he would either have to kill others in the same way, people who were totally unconnected…

But how would you choose who to kill?

It wasn't like he could kill all the idiots…

"TIME!"

Light stopped a scowl from coming to his face.

He was getting somewhere—where he didn't know—and this asshole derailed his train of thought.

Light got up and stretched lightly, listening as the orange teacher told the class that there was one more pose until the end of class, and that this time there will be a break for Light in the middle, so that the students would have more time on their piece.

Light was slightly surprised at how quickly time had passed, and after a moment feeling out for any cramps, decided that he would definitely have to do some stretches.

Just from the last pose he could feel his leg muscles complaining.

Light shrugged his shoulders to loosen the muscle there, and wondered if other nude models actually got changed for the short, five minute breaks between sketches.

When the orange haired teacher (seriously, _what_ was his name?) came over to sing him praises, still not able to meet his eyes, he sighed to himself and tried to look interested as he told him what his next pose would be, and if that would be okay with him…

Maybe he would be able to think more on how to kill these idiots during the next pose.

L smiled as he stared at Light-kun. He'd gotten in several drawings from the last pose, and he knew that if he had the inclination he could easily make some money selling the pictures to some pornographic company.

But L had no intention of doing that anytime soon…

Light-kun was truly a pleasure to draw, and it seemed that he was extremely… flexible, at least if his comfort in the last pose was anything to go by.

L didn't have much (any, really) experience in drawing live figures, but even he could tell how difficult it must be to stay in one position for more than five minutes without fidgeting in the least.

But Light-kun stayed perfectly still, chest moving evenly with breath, but not enough to cause a great change.

It seemed that Light-kun was well endowed with more than just the obvious…

It would be interesting to have a conversation with him… if he managed to keep a half-interesting conversation, it would be somewhat a blessing. L wasn't about to put much hope in him being even near his level of intelligence, but if he was smarter than, say at leats everyone in this class, if not everyone who worked in the building (something he would be able to easily tell), he might be interesting for more than physical reasons.

L's stomach growled slightly and he pulled out a cherry lollipop, thinking of something else that would make him even more interesting.

It would be good if Light-kun could bake as well… Watari buys the best, but it would be beneficial if he could go straight to the source.

L felt something below the belt bob in agreement, and he grinned around the stick.

He really wanted a light truffle cake, but supposed it could wait…

For now.

**TBC**

* * *

(*1) **parameters for figure drawing**= this is actually how my art teacher taught us how to draw models… it was extremely embarrassing to have to continually take measurements, so I did most of my measurements in the beginning and did a bunch of approximations… if it looked off, then I'd measure, but otherwise, it's all good :P

(*2) **approximately**= wow I'm saying that a lot but that's all that it is… approximations

(*3) **took the cake**= oh, Light… if only you knew how true that statement was, if only literally… :P thhpt, ignore dorkishness!

Okay, hope you enjoyed that, and hopefully I'll be able to have more happen in the next chapter :P

OH! And I have an idea for the next pose, but if anyone has any pose that they'd like to suggest, I'm open :D Also open to anyone sending links to interesting fan drawings of Light, or even sending a link to a pic of a statue or something that is in a pose that you'd like to 'see' in this :3 Either helps, really :D

Please review! Hope you enjoyed enough to do that ;)

~Doodled93~


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